


Pierce the Night

by unicornsandbutane



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, First Time, M/M, Nipple Piercings, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Oral Sex, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 02:31:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4330446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unicornsandbutane/pseuds/unicornsandbutane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ScoutHater on tumblr wanted more pierced Scout than was ready available. I aim to please.</p><p>see tags for a rough idea of what's in store.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pierce the Night

**Author's Note:**

> No, I don’t think nipple piercing was a common practice among males of western cultures in the 1960s, but WHATEVER. Apple stores exist in the TF2niverse so why not.

The third time the Scout shifted uncomfortably in his chair and shook his jacket as if airing it out, the Medic turned to him and asked him why, if he was so overheated, he was wearing a jacket in the first place. “Besides,” the doctor went on, gesturing with his spoon, “Wearing a jacket indoors serves no purpose and only causes you to thermoregulate to the temperature INDOORS while wearing a jacket. Once you go out of doors, the jacket will be useless. Assuming you’re going to be cold.” 

With a quick glance at the wall thermometer, the Medic raised an eyebrow. “Though I don’t see how you could be.” He dropped his spoon into his muesli and reached for the Scout’s forehead. “Are you feverish? Here, stick out your tongue and say ‘Aaah’...” 

But the Scout jerked away, nearly tipping his chair and causing several other members of the team to look up from their breakfasts. 

“Naw, Doc, I’m fit as a fiddle!” the Scout insisted, and the tone of his voice made the Medic furrow his brow. “I uh, think I’ll go run some laps or somethin’...!” he declared, and then he sped out of the room. 

The Medic caught the Heavy’s eye, and the giant shrugged, spooning brown sugar into his porridge. 

When the Scout got back from his run, panting and sweating and still inexplicably wearing that jacket, the Medic was waiting for him. 

“Scout, I feel as though you are hiding something from me,” he said, reaching out to catch the Scout by his shoulder. The runner wormed out of this hold, and took off, with the Medic bolting after him. “Wait!” the doctor cried, taking a turn a bit wider than the Scout, and skidding on gravel as they approached a dead end. “The longer you prolong this, the worse it will be!” the Medic promised, trying to disguise his own laboured breath at the sudden sprint without warm-up. The Scout glanced around and took a running leap at the wall, spring boarded off of it, and landed on a roof. The clatter of his feet told the Medic he’d gone running off over the eaves, and he knew he’d never catch the squirrely brat there. He’d have to wait.

At least it gave him time to plan.

Hours later, some time after the rest of the team had eaten their fill at dinner, the Scout crept into the kitchen, casting his eyes furtively about before straightening from his defensive crouch. He raided the fridge with the same speed as he approached every activity, piling up a dagwood sandwich the Heavy would be proud of. Bread, mayo, cheese, lettuce, pulled pork, more cheese, leftover spaghetti because why not, different kind of cheese, mustard, sliced lunch meat, lettuce, tomato, bread. He wrapped the whole thing in a paper towel for structural integrity, and shut the refrigerator door. 

“Oh hey, Doc,” he said, when the man turned out to be standing behind the open door. Then the Scout seemed to remember himself and jumped, nearly dropping his sandwich. Luckily, the Heavy was right behind him to catch it. “Uh, hey guys... what’s up?” he ventured shakily. “I was just, y’know, gettin’ a snack, so like. I guess I’ll be leavin’ now. See ya.” But the Heavy’s arm shot out, impeding the Scout’s progress. A giant hand clamped down on the Scout’s shoulder, holding him still. 

“Now Scout,” the Medic began, pacing around the runner with echoing footfalls. “You have made it painfully obvious that there is something you don’t want me to know. I believe that it is in our best interest to put that aside, because it has been extremely suspicious and it is my job to see to your medical health. So. Let us go.” 

The Scout tried to weasel out of the hold but the Heavy would not be deterred, and soon enough the runner found himself marched into the infirmary, still pitifully holding his untouched sandwich, the Medic striding purposefully beside him. The doctor held the door open and allowed the Heavy to push the Scout through in silence. When all three of them stood waiting for the fluorescent lights to flicker on, the Medic bent towards a box of fresh gloves and snapped a new pair onto his hands with relish.

“Scout,” the Heavy rumbled. “Will you lie down, or will I help you?” He gestured with his free hand towards the examination table in the centre of the room. The Scout grumbled but stalked over to sit on the steel table himself, crossing his arms in front of himself petulantly. 

“Now,” the Medic said with precision, “What is it you are trying to hide?”

The Scout only shrugged. The Medic tutted, and drew a tongue depressor from a jar on the counter. The Heavy hovered nearby in case the Scout became rebellious again. 

“You are flushed, and I am concerned you might be ignoring a fever. That is not good for your health, Scout. So. Allow me to examine you.” He tapped the wooden stick against the Scout’s lip and waited for the Scout to open his mouth. Finally, with a grimace, the Scout complied and the Medic looked at his tongue and throat. He felt his lymph nodes, and the back of his neck. His lips drew thin when he found nothing.

“Remove your shirt,” he commanded. “I will need to listen to your lungs.”

Immediately, the Scout stiffened, eyes flicking to the door. 

“Naw Doc, that won’t be necessary. I’m sure I’m fine. I feel great, ack-chelly, never felt better. So uh, we can just cut this short an’--” 

His attempts to stand were halted by the Heavy’s hand on his shoulder again, keeping him seated. 

“Aw come on, guys, what’s the point of all this anyway? Even if somethin’ was wrong with me, the MediGun would take care of it, right?”

The Medic clicked his tongue. “The MediGun seeks trauma, not any other kind of malady. There is after all no cure for the common cold.” He laughed a little at his own joke, but the Scout didn’t get it. He reached for his sandwich, but the Medic stopped him with a raised finger. 

“Your shirt, Scout.” 

“Doc, I really don’t want to.”

“What is going on that you don’t want me to see?”

“Nothin’!” The Scout answered, shrill and panicked. 

“What are you afraid will happen?”

“Ain’t afraid a’ nothin’!” the Scout replied, eyes blazing with defiance. 

“Well then,” the Medic concluded, “Your shirt.” 

The Scout huffed and complained, but neither the Heavy nor the Medic would budge. Finally, he gripped the hem of his shirt. “I ain’t sick, arright?” He stared the Medic dead in the eye. “An’ if either of you mooks says even one thing I swear t’ GOD I’ll make you regret it.”

With that, he whipped his jacket off and struggled his shirt up over his head, dropping them both to the floor. 

“Oh, so that’s it,” the Medic murmured, trying to keep a straight face. The Heavy leaned around the table and felt his eyebrows shoot up. 

Through each of the Scout’s nipples was a shiny metal barbell. The Scout blushed furiously, but his eyes still burned with challenge, daring either one of them to comment. 

“How are they healing, any discomfort?” the Medic asked, hands twitching with the desire to touch them.

“No,” the Scout spat, “An’ that’s the thing. See, I thought I’d just get ‘em, see if I liked ‘em, an’ if I didn’t, I figured I could take ‘em out. But then we went an’ did a mission, an’ the second you healed me I felt it... they’re all healed up an’ now I ‘m stuck with ‘em.” 

“Well, I feel as though I should take a look at them just in case... wouldn’t want any infections now, would we?” the Medic’s grin was a little too wide, but the Scout was well used to that. He leaned back on the table, wincing slightly at the cold, and shrugged.

“Knock yerself out, Doc.” He crossed his arms behind his head and attempted to relax, but the moment the Medic touched one of the little steel barbells, tugging it just slightly, he was bolt upright again with a shout. Immediately the Heavy was there, holding him down, but the Scout squirmed and kicked.

“JAY-zus Mary and Joseph!” he exclaimed, face bright with heat. “That— That—!!” He didn’t seem to have words for what was happening to him.

“Does this hurt, Scout?” the Medic asked, but he was grinning like a loon, so the Scout didn’t know which answer the doctor anticipated more. 

“N-no,” the Scout stammered, body thrashing. “Aw, Christ, doc! You gotta quit that, or else—!” His hips pitched up off the exam table, and his hands flew to hide his crotch. 

“Why, what is the matter?” the Medic crooned, switching to the other piercing, turning the barbell slowly, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. 

Even the Heavy was blushing, his broad hands splayed over the Scout’s ribs, keeping him as steady as he could even as the runner wriggled and writhed. 

“Doc, I can’t, you gotta, Medic!” the Scout wailed, hips bucking up into his hands involuntarily. 

“Are we having a physical reaction?” came the Medic’s teasing voice, and the Scout hissed a scathing curse. 

“Yeah, you ass, you know egg-zatcly what yer doin’! You knew this would fuckin’ happen, so don’t, fuckin’— Ahh!” He arched up off the table before the Heavy could stop him, while the Medic tweaked both barbells at once. The Scout gripped the sides of the table white-knuckled, revealing the insistent line of his cock pressing against his knickerbockers. “Y’wanna ‘take a look’ at that, too?”

The Heavy grunted in surprise, and the Medic laughed. 

“You too, big guy. You want in on this? I’m about horny enough for all three of us right now, so, you just say the word and I am there.” 

Shocked, the Heavy let the Scout go, but the Medic pressed closer. 

“Is that so? Well. Aren’t we eager.” He wrapped his hands around the Scout’s torso and swiped his thumbs over both of the Scout’s nipples, feeling the metal through his gloves. The Scout kicked and nearly screamed. “What do you think, Heavy? Who are we to turn down such a generous offer?” 

Already the Scout was unbuttoning his trousers and fighting them off his hips. “C’mon guys, I’m beggin’ you here. Doc, you can’t get a guy all riled up like that an’ not follow through, it ain’t fair!”

“To be fair, I didn’t expect you to be so open to homophilic encounters.” 

The Medic stroked his fingers down the Scout’s sides to his hips, and the Heavy watched, transfixed, as the Scout twisted to try and push his cock, still clothed in a trim white jock strap, into the Medic’s gloved palm.

“So what?” the Scout demanded, “You thought you’d just feel me up and see how far you could get? You dirty old queen.” 

The Medic shrugged. “I was… improvising,” he answered, grinning broadly. The Scout turned to the Heavy. 

“What do you say, man? I’m cool with bein’ the Lucky Pierre, if that’s what youse guys want.” 

“What is…?” The Heavy rumbled, and the Scout sat up to explain. 

“It means, one a’you does my mouth an’t he other one does my ass, see?” He grinned wide and lascivious. The Heavy looked up to see the Medic loosening his tie.

“I’d be willing,” the Medic announced, unbuttoning his collar. 

“Yeah, that much is obvious,” the Scout mused, reaching out boldly to cup the Medic through his slacks, rubbing his thumb over the bulge he found there. The Medic’s hips snapped into the touch, and he breathed a quiet groan. “Yeah, Doc. Feels good, huh? Tell the big guy how good it feels… maybe that’ll convince him.”

“Do not need convincing,” the Heavy complained, his belt clinking. “Is just… Suddenly you are wanting this?” 

The Scout shifted his eyes over and let them rove hungrily over the Heavy’s body. “It ain’t so sudden. I want it all the goddamn time. I din’t know about youse guys until just now. But like, here we are and I’m just achin’. so… if you’re into it, I will blow your goddamn mind. So.” He reached out with his right hand, his left still rubbing the Medic, and stopped just short of touching. “Can I?”

After a moment’s pause, the Heavy shifted his hips forward, pushing the fly of his canvas trousers against the Scout’s waiting hand. The Scout groaned aloud and rubbed both the Heavy and the Medic in tandem, his own cock twitching in his jock.

“Oh my god, you guys feel so goddamn good. Fuckin’, long an’ thick an’ everythin’! I can’t decide which one a’ you I wanna suck, an’ which one I wanna fuck. Maybe I’ll just let you guys decide. Or flip a coin or some shit.” He moaned again, and the Heavy reached down, brushing a huge, callused thumb over one of the Scout’s recently pierced nipples. 

The Scout’s reaction was electric. He yelped and bowed his back and his eyes fluttered shut and his hands squeezed his partners’ cocks simultaneously. The Heavy gasped and the Medic hummed, before gently prying the Scout’s hand away to pull off his waistcoat and unbutton his trousers, relieving pressure. 

“I have just the thing for this,” he promised, walking stiffly to his cabinets and returning with a large pump-jar of lubricant. “Now, if you would kindly roll over, Scout?”

“Oh, hell yes,” the runner replied, getting onto all fours without complaint. 

The jock framed his bare ass quite nicely, and the Medic couldn’t resist giving the Scout’s tight cheeks a little squeeze. The Scout huffed out a laugh at that, and the Heavy found his hands drawn to the long lines of the Scout’s body as he kneeled, presenting himself for the Medic’s fingers. He stroked up and down the Scout’s back, scratched his nails carefully along the runner’s ribs, and watched the man bend and arch like a cat. 

“Mm, that’s good, big guy. Y’wanna get right between my shoulders? Mmm, that’s the spot. ooohh,” he purred, smiling to himself. The smile melted into an expression of blissful shock, though when he felt the Medic’s fingers, slick with lube, pressing against him. “Oh, oh, fuck, Doc. Fuckin’ give ‘em to me, I ain’t into all this teasin’ bullshit.” He pushed back against the Medic’s gloved hand, and the Medic let his index finger slip in. “Yeah, that’s it, that’s fuckin’ right, just…” He breathed out, and in again, and then he said, “Another one, give me another, ain’t takin’ neither of your cocks without a shit tonne of lube.” 

The Medic pushed his middle finger in, and the Scout keened through that for about a minute or so, but then, impatient as ever, he demanded another finger, and another, until, breathlessly, the Scout said, “Shit dag, I wonder if I can take yer whole damn hand. You wanna try it? Betchu I can. Just gimme a bit more lube.”

The Medic asked the Heavy to pump the lubricant over his fingers, and once he was good and slick, he slowly slid his hand in, up to the wrist. The Scout’s breath left him, and he panted shallowly, staring blindly forward while the Heavy petted his back. “Oh fuck,” he said thickly. “Oh goddamn. I can feel your whole fuckin’ fist up in me. Holy shit. Yer knuckles an’ everything. Oh my god. Fuck. Think one a’ you can go back to touchin’ my piercings? I was real into that.”

The Heavy reached under the Scout and began turning the barbells with a fascination, trying to be gentle. “Like this?” he asked, watching the Scout’s shoulders flex. 

“Nnnnmmm,” the Scout moaned, brows knit. “More, I want more. Maybe pull ‘em harder? I wanna feel what that’s like.” The Heavy complied and drank in the high-pitched wail it produced. “Fuck, fuck, yeah, that feels, oh my god. Fuckin’, my cock is drippin’ all over the place, makin’ my jock so fuckin’ wet, I’m so goddamn… Fuck, lemme see yer cocks, please, then, then tell me who’s doin’ what. I can’t hardly stand it anymore, I’m gonna go fuckin’ crazy.”

Shakily, the Heavy pushed his trousers and shorts down in the front, exposing his cock to the air. It rather seemed that the Medic had his hands full, but the Scout was too focused on what the Heavy had to offer. He licked his lips, his whole body rocking as the Medic fisted his ass, and canted his chin up. 

“Jesus H. Christ, Heavy. Get over here right the fuck now an’ let me suck your cock. It is fuckin’ beautiful.” He walked his hands over so he could turn a little on the table, and the Heavy took a half a step forward, and the Scout wrapped his lips around the Heavy’s cock with such open need that the Heavy had to close his eyes for a moment. 

The image of the Scout with his lips pulled wide around the Heavy’s cock, eyes closed and face flushed, was almost too much. He stroked a massive hand through the Scout’s short hair and felt a sustained moan vibrate through him. With some effort, the Scout pulled off, mischief writ in his every feature. “You gonna hold my hair an fuck my mouth, big guy? Because Imma be real fuckin’ put out if you don’t.” He grinned, but then the Medic twisted his wrist just so and the Scout nearly collapsed. “Hey Doc, I think I’m pretty fuckin’ stretched back there. You wanna go ahead and get yer cock in me or you waitin’ for a written invitation?”

He groaned loudly and plaintively when the Medic withdrew his fist, and concentrated instead on licking the Heavy base to tip while the Medic pulled his glove off. Then, he felt his jockstrap being pulled down his thighs and he waited. After a few seconds’ pause that felt like an eternity, he felt it, the press of the Medic’s cock inside him. His mouth dropped open on a moan, and the Heavy took advantage of that, gripping the runner by the longer hairs on top of his head and pushing in between his open lips, muffling the sound. The Scout did not protest. He pushed back eagerly into the Medic’s hips, and waited for the man’s thrust to push him forward onto the Heavy’s cock. it brushed the back of his throat and he swallowed against the gag reflex, and again against the burn of the Heavy’s cockhead rubbing deep, beyond his tonsils to where he thought it was so long he could feel it fucking his heart. He sucked in gasping breaths when the Heavy withdrew, tears stinging in his eyes, but he was so hard it hurt. He needed both hands to hold himself up, to brace himself against the punishing thrusts slinging him this way and then the other, but despite how hard he was, how tight his balls felt, he didn’t want to cum yet, and so, kept his hands gripped tightly to the metal table. 

It was probably bruising his knees, this constant rocking back and forth on a hard steel surface, but the pain brought everything into sharper focus. He almost choked around a groan, and found how much he loved it, and then it turned into a strangled scream when the Medic slid one hand up from its hold on the Scout’s hip to tease at one of those tempting barbells again. 

“How’s that, Scout?” the Medic rasped, voice punched out of him by the force of his own thrusts. He knew the Scout wouldn't be unable to respond, with the Heavy’s thick cock crammed down his throat and his own churning the Scout’s insides. “Is this what you wanted?” 

The only answer he got was the Scout arching more violently into his thrusts, and spreading his legs wider. This changed the angle, and both the Scout and the Medic moaned deeply at it, and the sound shook through the Heavy and made him grip the Scout’s hair tighter. The Scout loved it, absolutely loved it, and tried to convey that through enthusiastic sucking and deep, heartfelt moans around the twitching cock in his mouth. The Medic pinched the Scout’s pierced nipple again, and the Scout tensed, shoulders raised, elbows locked, voice rough with throatfucking, and came. He splattered the shiny stainless steel, and shook, clenching around the Medic and bellowing around the Heavy. It seemed to go on forever and by the end of it he was insensate, barely able to hold himself up for the Heavy to fuck his mouth. 

“Ach!” the Medic warned, hips speeding. “Are you ready, Scout?” The Scout only moaned pitifully, fucked-out and unable to articulate anything more. The Medic spanked the Scout’s ass once before he bent over him, groaning richly into the Scout’s sweat- slicked back and emptying into him. The Scout’s high-pitched yelp was drowned in the Medic’s sounds of praise, telling him how tight his ass was, how it was so hungrily milking everything out of him, how he’d taken it all so well. 

The Scout kept up a constant stream of nonsensical sounds, and the Heavy held his hair tight, pushing into the Scout’s mouth, over his velvet tongue and into his clenching, welcoming throat over and over again. The sounds pushed him higher and higher until he glanced down and met the Scout’s watery blue eyes and saw the way the runner seemed to be pleading. 

“You want this?” the Heavy asked breathlessly. The Scout closed his eyes and moaned, nodding shallowly. “You want to swallow it?” Again the Scout nodded, attempting to suck faster, to swallow harder around the Heavy’s cock. 

With a tight fist in the Scout’s hair, the Heavy held him still, keeping the head of his cock just inside the ring of the Scout’s lips. The Scout flicked his tip with his tongue, and that was it. His shoulders pitched forward, his eyes clenched shut, and he let himself release onto the Scout’s waiting tongue. The Scout swallowed enthusiastically, and the feeling of his mouth constricting as he did, his tongue seeking out every spurt, drew it out, made the Heavy roar through his orgasm, made his hips buck involuntarily. 

“Ahh,” the Medic sighed, finally pulling away. The Scout swallowed one last time before the Heavy hauled him away by his hair. Blinking, the runner stretched out his tongue, attempting to keep going, but the Heavy held him back, slumping against a counter and panting, his cock softening in his open fly. The Medic allowed himself to flu into his rolling chair, and the Scout, sore, numb in the knees, but still floating on an orgasmic high, carefully moved to sit on the exam table. His ass burned with the ache of a solid fucking, and he rubbed feeling back into his fingers and wrists. 

“So uh, I guess I don’t need to ask what you guys think of my new body mods, huh?” He asked, and he hardly sounded like himself, his voice destroyed, his lips puffy and red. Regardless, he took a monstrous bite of his neglected sandwich, and swallowed past the pain in his throat.

“Well, I don’t know…” the Medic replied, rubbing his chin as if in thought. “What do you think of them, Heavy?”

“Hm. Will take some getting used to,” the Heavy joked in response, pretending to consider. 

“Mm, yes. I propose exposure therapy. That might be the best way to acclimatise us, get us past the initial shock.”

“I’ll show you some goddamn exposure…” the Scout answered, but he was grinning, and the Medic and the Heavy found that they, too, were smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, y'all. If you want to see more, you can find me under the same name on tumblr. c:


End file.
